her mistress had said, standing over her relict girl’s backside and pushing the plug into it, “I want you to think about this, the next time you consider staying out in the park when you should be here getting dinner ready.” Then the vid had shown how the girl had to wear the plug while she was cooking, and the way the black plastic showed so shamefully, holding her creamy pink and white bottom cheeks apart as she worked at the counter in her mistress’ kitchen.
Gretchen had only seen lace in pictures and, once, as a tiny strip that had perhaps been torn off a comforter or the hem of a dress, in an old house. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she realized that the amount of lace covering her between her legs would not be very much more than she had found on the floor in the corner of the abandoned bedroom, whose furnishings weren’t even as nice as the ones in the room that she could now, apparently, call hers, here on Athena.
She had to put on the lacy things, though she did not even have names for them: the thing that went around her sternum and had the cups to hold her little breasts and the thing that went around her waist and between her legs and made her hairless pussy feel so strange and sensitive, with the very little bit of slightly stretchy fabric that ran back between her bottom cheeks and didn’t really cover them at all. Why did she feel more naked after she had put them on than she had when she wore nothing at all?
She emerged from her little room to find that Mr. Lourcy sat in a big, comfortable-looking chair, gazing out at the sun and the stars. He turned his head and smiled at her, which brought the blush back to her cheeks full force. Gretchen held her hands at her sides balled into little fists, feeling that she might try helplessly and vainly to flee even with nowhere at all to go and the prospect of the terrible punishments she knew relict girls got for refusing to please their masters and mistresses. Something about the scanty clothing he had commanded her to wear seemed to make her feel a shame she hadn’t felt since she had to take off her dress for the inspection back in the Hall of Taking in the enclosure—and not even then, really, because everything had seemed so strange and unreal that day.
Now, the Athenians had spent a full week of orientation to make sure that she understood exactly what it meant to be a relict girl: how thoroughly she belonged to Mr. Lourcy. He commanded her body so completely that if he wished to cover it, so that he might enjoy it better that way, according to his own pleasure, he would now simply tell her to go to her room and put on the lewd things he had laid out for her there.
Distracted by the crowding-in of these thoughts and feelings that made her tremble, standing there just inside the living room and looking at the man who would now, she knew, take her virginity and have sex with her as much as he wanted—deep into this night, Gretchen thought with a strange leaping of her heart, and then, if he wished, every night—she noticed that Mr. Lourcy had placed a piece of furniture in the center of the carpet that she hadn’t seen when she first came in. It seemed like a table, but narrow, and covered with padding.
“That’s your lesson table, Gretchen,” Mr. Lourcy said. She looked back at him, and saw that he had noticed her looking at the thing in confusion. “In a little while, you’re going to get up on it, and I’m going to inspect you, and then I’ll teach you a lesson.” He must have seen how her eyes went wide with alarm—she hadn’t done anything! Why was her master going to punish her? He smiled reassuringly and continued, “Don’t worry, my dear, it won’t be a disciplinary lesson. I promise you’ll find it very pleasant. It will also get you ready for sex, and at the end of your lesson I will bring you back to your room, and make a woman of you, as they used to say.”
Gretchen’s breath came more and more quickly. So.
Gretchen had only seen lace in pictures and, once, as a tiny strip that had perhaps been torn off a comforter or the hem of a dress, in an old house. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she realized that the amount of lace covering her between her legs would not be very much more than she had found on the floor in the corner of the abandoned bedroom, whose furnishings weren’t even as nice as the ones in the room that she could now, apparently, call hers, here on Athena.
She had to put on the lacy things, though she did not even have names for them: the thing that went around her sternum and had the cups to hold her little breasts and the thing that went around her waist and between her legs and made her hairless pussy feel so strange and sensitive, with the very little bit of slightly stretchy fabric that ran back between her bottom cheeks and didn’t really cover them at all. Why did she feel more naked after she had put them on than she had when she wore nothing at all?
She emerged from her little room to find that Mr. Lourcy sat in a big, comfortable-looking chair, gazing out at the sun and the stars. He turned his head and smiled at her, which brought the blush back to her cheeks full force. Gretchen held her hands at her sides balled into little fists, feeling that she might try helplessly and vainly to flee even with nowhere at all to go and the prospect of the terrible punishments she knew relict girls got for refusing to please their masters and mistresses. Something about the scanty clothing he had commanded her to wear seemed to make her feel a shame she hadn’t felt since she had to take off her dress for the inspection back in the Hall of Taking in the enclosure—and not even then, really, because everything had seemed so strange and unreal that day.
Now, the Athenians had spent a full week of orientation to make sure that she understood exactly what it meant to be a relict girl: how thoroughly she belonged to Mr. Lourcy. He commanded her body so completely that if he wished to cover it, so that he might enjoy it better that way, according to his own pleasure, he would now simply tell her to go to her room and put on the lewd things he had laid out for her there.
Distracted by the crowding-in of these thoughts and feelings that made her tremble, standing there just inside the living room and looking at the man who would now, she knew, take her virginity and have sex with her as much as he wanted—deep into this night, Gretchen thought with a strange leaping of her heart, and then, if he wished, every night—she noticed that Mr. Lourcy had placed a piece of furniture in the center of the carpet that she hadn’t seen when she first came in. It seemed like a table, but narrow, and covered with padding.
“That’s your lesson table, Gretchen,” Mr. Lourcy said. She looked back at him, and saw that he had noticed her looking at the thing in confusion. “In a little while, you’re going to get up on it, and I’m going to inspect you, and then I’ll teach you a lesson.” He must have seen how her eyes went wide with alarm—she hadn’t done anything! Why was her master going to punish her? He smiled reassuringly and continued, “Don’t worry, my dear, it won’t be a disciplinary lesson. I promise you’ll find it very pleasant. It will also get you ready for sex, and at the end of your lesson I will bring you back to your room, and make a woman of you, as they used to say.”
Gretchen’s breath came more and more quickly. So.
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